While days were devoted to filming Chris Morris and Charlie Brooker’s cult-like C4 satire of the pre-hipster generation, Nathan Barley, Whishaw played sad-sack office whipping boy Pingu, who had barely a line to speak. I tell him that in my humble opinion Q is clearly Pingu’s professional revenge.He beams. “I hadn’t thought of that before. That’s brilliant!” We reminisce about Barley’s fine cast (including Benedict Cumberbatch-briefly – and Richard Ayoade). ”It was a bit ahead of its time, really,” he says. “I think people would recognize it for what it was much more now, but at the time people didn’t really get what it was satirising.”

He thinks his days of playing 20-somethings are over. So what next? I am intrigued as to what will happen. "I’m nearly middle-aged！Age is weird but I think I might have reached the point…well, let’s say I loved doing this series but I don’t think I’d be interested in doing another thing with someone of that age, because I’m more interested in what’s going on in my life now. You’re just in a different place when you’re 35. It’s not necessarily conscious but you’re drawing on your own life. And it’s not that I’m looking for stuff that is like me – but pretending to be young is maybe something I’m not interested in any more.”
There is a brief pause and an added “Yeah!”

Listening to Whishaw's slow, considered speech, it is as though having forced himself to go on the record he is, right here and now in this (suitably) greige and stylishly middle-aged hotel room, turning his back on his youth. In which case, bring on the bald wigs and the stooping; the youngest-ever King Lear is clearly just around the corner.

A romance between an MI6 code genius (Ed Holcroft) and a man working dead-end jobs (Ben Whishaw) promises happiness for both.

But tragedy strikes when the spy dies in suspicious circumstances, forcing his lover to pursue the dangerous truth behind his death. Out of his depth in the world of espionage Danny seeks help from his wise mentor Scottie (Jim Broadbent), embarking on a journey where no one is what they seem.

“I just take what ever’s offered at that moment. I go with whatever I like. I like the variety. After that （ブロードウェイでの舞台『るつぼ』）I’d like to another television series.”

初の書き下ろし脚本の Tom Rob Smith ガーディアン紙に語る:It is also as much twisted love story as spy drama. Danny and Alex’s relationship, which takes up much of the opening episode, is both romantic and reckless, with neither man seemingly trusting the other enough to tell the truth.

“It’s about two people who are both in different ways lost but who physically find each other,” said Smith, adding that he does not believe viewers will struggle with the central relationship.
“A love story is a love story. You either go with it or you don’t and I find it patronising to straight people to say you can’t see yourself in this love story just because it’s not a love story about you.”

You don't seem to take much time off. You're in a Euripides play in London right now...

'I like time off too, but I also feel like I want to move into being more proactive about making things. So many of my friends are writers or directors or aspiring to be. I'm very excited by that too, by not waiting for things to come to me, but trying to get things off the ground. You start to develop a taste for what you like, or what you want cinema to be or what it could be. At a certain point, you think: Well, why shoundn't I be more involved in making those things happen rather than just being receptive to other people's stuff?'

After his geeky Q in Skyfall, the enigmatic actor Ben
Whishaw is showing his wild side as the god Bacchus.
And sometimes he dreams of just being himself

Sunlight pours down on the Islington street where I am due to meet Ben Whishaw for lunch; London, for once, is having a summer. At the Almeida theatre, across the road, the actor is about to perform in a new version of Euripides's Bakkhai - the next instalment in the theatre's Greeks season, which is modishly retooling the ancients. The most important question is already clear: will we sit inside or out?

The publicist has kindly booked a table for us, but it's inside, far away, down some stairs. It feels like a test. Will we get the fey, wan Whishaw of lore, a sprite who wants to hide away indoors? This is the lovable little geek who plays the tech boffin Q in the Bond movies and recently lent his voice to Paddington Bear. Or will it be the more electric, full-bodied thing who has played his fair share of stars, divas and sociopaths (see his murderous Grenouille in Perfume, or his Richard Ⅱ in the BBC's The Hollow Crown, or his 2013 West End turn in Jez Butterworth's Mojo, as the criminal crackpot Baby)?

Thank God, or the gods. In Bakkhai, Whishaw is playing Dionysos, also called Bacchus, the god of theatre, transformation and wine. If he couldn't handle a bit of English heat, you'd wonder how he could transmit the scorched - earth savagery of the early Hellenes. And Bakkhai - or the Bacchae, as it is often known: the poet Anne Carson provides a new version here - is a savage play.

First performed in 405 BC, it charts the arrival of Dionysos in the city of Thebes. The women have fallen under his spell and gone wild up on the hill, but in the city, Pentheus (Bertie Carvel) refuses to acknowledge the god's existence. This has horrible consequences.

Cheeringly, Whishaw's turn as Dionysos will involve him wearing a dress, as that is the Bacchic uniform. He tries to describe it: "Something inspired by a whirling dervish - but more feminine," This afternoon, they are about to have their first stab at some wild Bacchic dancing, so he wants to keep lunch light (he plumps for a nice john dory) and there is no question of wine, however apt that might be. What will the dancing entail?

"Stomping and shaking? God knows. Ecstatic dancing? Does he like to dance? "I love to dance," he says with rare ardour, "Do you?"

Whishaw is one of those actors who really only wants to act: personal self-exposure doesn't float his boat. He is courteous, but a cultivated vagueness hangs over every answer. We discuss why he is playing Dionysos; it does seem to be perfect casting, especially if you saw him in Mojo. Baby's psychopathic switchers, his seductive tics and fabulous dance sequence were surely primers for the Greek god. But apparently no: the idea was mooted by this show's director, James Macdonald, about five years ago. So why has it stuck? "I dunno, I have no idea, really," he replies. A long Pause. "You'd have to ask him," he concludes with a little laugh.

My hunch is that of course Whishaw knows, but he's damned if he's going to summarize it in soundbites. ("I do good crazy!") He has been in the public eye for 11 years now, since his youthful Hamlet caused a frenzy at the Old Vic, but he knows the eternal rule: let the performances do the talking, and never mind the talking about it. This makes for an interview rich in pauses and, by the count of my transcript, a good 50 yeses, "Yeahs" and "Yeps"

I don't think it's all entirely deliberate, it just seems to be who he is; but I don't think he minds the overall effect, either. Jane Campion, who directed him in the beautiful Bright Star (he played the poet John Keats), once described him as a cat, and, though it seems so obvious, it is hard to top it, except to ponder the breed. The glare of an Abyssinian, maybe, mixed with the homeliness of a tabby.

And there's this: he knows when to turn it on. As I push and prod about Dionysos, Whishaw, who spends much of our time together looking a little off into the street, finally turns his head towards me, makes direct eye contact and does that full Whishaw thing. "What we're exploring with Dionysos, and I suppose it's true of Baby, is that Dionysos gets into your mind, you know? He messes with your head and he finds your weakness." Right. And surely that's fun to play? His answer is a dirty cackle.

Meanwhile, there is Q and Bond. Whishaw made his appreciated franchise debut in 2012's mega-hit Skyfall. His Q was a wry wonk who spent his time in dark bunkers, sipping tea and getting Daniel Craig out of trouble via the internet, or what have you. (Counterintuitive casting: Whishaw says he is hopeless with most technology.) He returns as Q for this November's hotly anticipated sequel, Spectre. It is, he concedes, a bigger role this time, but clearly all of the cast are bound to tight nondisclosure agreements, and he has no problem with sticking to them. Still, to sum up: yes, he gets out of the bunker this time, but no, he still doesn't get to do any stunts. Is that a disappointment?
"Umm, no. Not particularly. I like what I have to do, I like the function Q serves in the film. Which is to do the opposite of stunts." (When Whishaw isn't being wafty, he can be wonderfully tart.) Most of his peers are desperate to beef up and get a Marvel franchise under their belt, but not him. "I'm not particularly interested in them," he chuckles. "You can only really do what you love, I suppose, is the thing."

What he loves is acting in its purest form. I ask him what he's have done if he hadn't acted for a living, and for once his answer is convincing in its lameness - "Something in the arts?" When pushed he suggests maybe painting, as he recently took up an art foundation course: "I love visual art, I find it very exciting." That sounds fun, but he doesn't go into specifics; he just likes he doesn't go into specifics; he just likes "everything, everything". I suddenly wonder if he'd want to go and see Decision, Carsten Höller's show at the Hayward; would he go down one of the artist's slides? Would he go "Wheeeeee!" as he flew down the chute? Who knows? He is intrigued, but he won't commit. "Maybe I'll go check it out."

After the play, Whishaw will have to promote a raft of films coming out this autumn: not just Spectre, but a Greek-directed art-house piece, The Lobster; Suffragette, with Carey Mulligan and Meryl Streep; and In the Heart of the Sea, where he plays the author Herman Melville. (Stills of this film portray a ship buffeted on a wild and turbulent sea, but Whishaw, as the film's narrator, avoids all this again - "I'm on dry land," he confirms dryly,) What will he do when all that is done? "Something else. Probably I wouldn't do very much. Just live, and see my family. Travel, maybe."

He evaded questions about his private life for a long time, but eventually it was announced that, in 2012, he had entered into a civil partnership with the composer Mark Bradshaw. He is cautious about any kind of definition. As he confirms: "I have a lot of respect for people who dislike labels and who refuse to be labelled." Still, considering the progress of the past few years, would he turn his civil partnership into a marriage?
"No. I've no particular...er...umm...I don't feel the need to do that. No. "I mention that the marriage law has been an interesting one to discuss with various people: what it means about gay identity, about the need to conform, about what our life choices should be. He is intrigued, but quite clear on his line. "I just think it's fantastic that it's happened. I think, just now, what needs to happen is that straight couples can be civil
partnered. Then we're all even, aren't we?"

As he dislikes labels so much, can I suggest another? "Bedfordshire's Ben Whishaw." He gives another good laugh. He grew up there, in a non-theatrical family, before going to Rada. (His father's name is Jose, and Whishaw is a name quite new to the family; the actor's Latin roots are visible in his readiness to tan.) What is Bedfordshire like? "Er... Have you ever been? Traveled through it on the way to somewhere else?" Maybe... is that where Luton airport is? "Yeah. So. You've been to Bedfordshire. You know what it's like." All the more need, then, for a goodwill ambassador? Another laugh. "It's just a little place next to more interesting places."

He was dazzlingly young when burst forth as Hamlet. How does he look back on that now? "I don't ever really look back on things. I can't really remember, and I don't ever spend any time thinking about stuff I've done, really." Is that because he likes to keep motoring forward? "Yeah...I just also don't think I have a very good memory." I burst out laughing; he protests. "I don't！ It just sort of fades away." As for the far future, he is a bit vague on that too, but in fairness, that's because nothing is finalised. Another Dionysian thing is on the horizon: A Freddie Mercury biopic. "A complicated human" is his assessment, for now.

If Whishaw is an actor to his core, there is clearly a life he is happy to live out of character. "Some days I think I've had enough of pretending to be someone else, and I just want to live my life and not do what I'm told for a while."

He relays a conversation he had with Anna Chancellor (his co-star in the BBC drama The Hour). "I was moaning about how something in the way actors were treated was annoying, and she was, like" - he imitates her, very well - "Well, darling, we are children, aren't we? So you must expect to be treated like a child." In a way, she's right, you have to be like a child. But also, we're not children, and it's strange sometimes."

For any sane person, being infantilised all the time is grim: it's to his credit that he sees it. Then again, the sun is shining, and he's about to dance all afternoon. It's fun to play, "Yes, it is," he replies. For once, the answer feels entirely definite.

On the themes that will be explored in The Hour, Whishaw continued: "There's a lot of ingredients. I suppose the main story is really about Soho and this underworld of crime, and again how that is connected to people in positions of power.

"The nuclear race is a big thing and Abi, again very cleverly, ties those two together. But in the background there's also a sort of race issue and it touches briefly on something called the Wolfenden Report, which was a report into whether homosexuality should be legalised. So there's a sexual morality theme as well."

ベルと縁りが…？

"He's sort of driven by Bel (Romola Garai). [She] has an almost kind of feminist concern with the girls who work at the Soho clubs, so she's really driving the story at first and Freddie kind of is joining her story, so he's sort of working more in collaboration with her".